That's How What Works? کے بول

To keep from capsizing, we drilled holes in the ship. Now I'm sketching your T-shirt and how it falls across your chest. I'm a sub-plot in this story and I'm winding down with my faults on repeat. We'll be better next year if we make it through this year. I'll be better next year. I won't make it through this year. I miss you like a metaphor for your coat missing your bedroom floor after eight weeks of winter. Or something like that.